Thursday, August 10, 2017

packing , unpacking, packing

I am taking only one tiny carry on , plus my purse. I will be gone for nearly five months and can not WAIT to get out of this country- already dreading coming back.

There are a few more weeks to think about how to deal with three seasons. Last fall in London was really hot and humid - November was perfect -December the weather became noticeably frigid. What to take?

So, I have packed up my winter gear, my eye vitamins, my "Dead Man's Reach" coffee addiction, and a few items to give in these three boxes!

Clearly I will be unpacking these boxes and will get everything into one pre- paid box to send to Sarah's address in Greenwich.

"Dead Man's Reach" may get the boot.

I was thinking about my travel gear - quickly wrote this sort of poem on Facbook this morning:

buttons are preferableto mutable zipper,buttons easily replaced.it’s just common sense.

Lisil ofdark blending colors-quiet, earthy-of the old school,Perdu

consideration-when travel abruptly stopsthis suit will be that of eternitymake sure comfortis of primary concern

and pockets, of course.must have lifetimes of pockets

With that in mind I can forget about most of what I have packed and just get down to REAL. What is essential.

Always tend to go overboard. Which brings me to this past blast: one of my exaggerated eras.

We lived in San Diego, rented a house with too many bedrooms. At that point we only had two dogs, Brandy the Setter, who, as a puppy got run over, paralyzing and squishing his back legs - he was such a lovely animal we nursed him back to some semblance of mobility , carrying him out to pee and poo, until he could sort of hobble on one crooked leg. What a trooper he was.

And Poppins the sheep dog, a gem of a girl- Eleanor the cat was a freak - ran away after a few years- to go live in the slaughter house , more to her liking.

Eleanor made short work of the canary, a little yellow funeral followed.

While driving out in the country , we saw a German Shepard tied to a post, A man carrying a rifle getting ready to point and shoot the dog. We saved her, She was feral and pregnant though we did not realize. We loved her , she became docile and then BOOM nine puppies! All of them gorgeous, two died from her nipping the umbilical cord too closely. Then the tally was NINE dogs , one insane cat, and a dead bird.

The many bedrooms now full of dogs. My idea of heaven....at least for a while. It was unrealistic to keep them all, even after we had given them names and stations.

Too much of a good thing is still too much, so, like unpacking the too many boxes- we found homes for all but Poppins, Kept her and traveled on up the coast for more adventure.